DEATH is a FICKLE FRIEND

Death rides in a carriage
drawn by bright pink horses
and blasts pop tunes at full volume
crashes your wedding
dances nude on the table
and forces you to observe their bony white bod.

Death takes the Underground
holds onto a handle overhead
with a death grip
steps off
punches their ticket
punches yours too.

Death sleeps in late
wakes up and snatches their cloak on quick
runs out the door
and into you
apologises
but takes you anyway.